


Satin, Silk and Love (With Blood!)

by Bloopydoo (UNDERTALESIN)



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin!AU, Everyone might be a little bit nuts, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, M/M, Surprises, hints of really shitty upbringing/childrearing, sorta more an intrigue au, that really do be how it is sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UNDERTALESIN/pseuds/Bloopydoo
Summary: The Gresley family are like spiders in webs, and Spencer in particular.Hiro, on the other hand, has a chip on his shoulder and a reward to claim.Alternate Title: To Kill or Keep a Spider with a Fox?Short oneshot. Rated M, just to be safe.
Relationships: Hiro/Spencer
Kudos: 8





	Satin, Silk and Love (With Blood!)

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas (Or day-before, depending), enjoy a oneshot.  
> And sorry I've been quiet this year. It's been hectic, ay?  
> Enjoy the show.

They had known the moment they met. An acknowledgement, a sudden understanding of each other.  
  
Spencer, smooth as silk and sharp as a sword, holding the Gresley family's vast intelligence web of blackmail in his hands.  
  
Hiro, polished and mysterious as black opal, with a knife to Spencer's throat. Out of nowhere, completely unknown to the man, until now.  
  
It was a moment of stillness in a raging storm, Spencer's entourage still stunned by the assassin's appearance and unable to react. Then Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly, and Hiro withdrew without leaving even a scratch as Spencer's guards swarmed him. He disappeared, leaving Spencer's ruffled companions in his wake.  
  
Spencer watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.  
  
He'd keep an eye on that one.  
  
-  
  
Hiro was holed up in one of his safehouses, polishing a spare knife. He had planned on claiming the bounty for Spencer's head 'dead or alive', though that usually meant dead, and something had stopped him.  
  
A feeling.  
  
There was something about Spencer Gresley, something very important...  
  
Yes, he'd leave this bounty for someone else. Not worth getting involved, for now. _For now_.  
  
-  
  
The next they'd met was at a charity function, where the Kawasaki group was announcing some new publicity stunt wrapped with goodwill. Spencer didn't quite care.  
  
Except there was his assassin, lingering in the corner. Artfully in the shadows, of course, but there.  
  
And he seemed terribly disdainful of the Kawasaki family, whose children seemed to be around his age if Spencer didn't miss his guess...  
  
There was a story here, and Spencer would get to the bottom of it.  
  
-  
  
Hiro had been watching his old family prance around, practically proclaiming how wonderful they were. They certainly hadn't been so wonderful when they'd dumped him with Grandfather and Grandmother. He'd suffered, spent _days_ begging for them to take him back (and being beaten for his efforts), he'd endured _Hell_ and they didn't even care.  
  
They'd wiped him off the family tree.  
  
He noticed Spencer, and it was clear Spencer had returned the attention. He paid the man no mind. This wasn't about him.  
  
Hiro left, and the Gresley didn't follow.  
  
-  
  
Spencer eventually found himself with a price on his head again. With people after him, with people out for blood once more.  
  
And one night his would-be assassin glided out of the shadows, a kitsune mask on his face. He seemed almost reluctant, quiet and graceful though he was. Spencer stopped short, neither approaching nor retreating.  
  
They stood facing each other, at opposite ends of the empty ballroom, each refusing to yield to the other.  
  
The masked man drew his dagger.  
Spencer exhaled, and closed his eyes.  
  
A single drop of blood dripped onto the floor.  
  
Spencer opened his eyes, clutching the assassin's wrist in his hand. He was looking at Spencer's hand as if he couldn't decide whether to be pissed or impressed, from what Spencer could discern from that head tilt. He'd nicked Spencer, but Spencer's grip was firm. If he wanted to push further, then he'd overbalance forward.  
  
Spencer offered him a slight grin.  
  
The man yanked out of his grip, falling into a ready stance with his blade clutched in his hand; another appeared in his off-hand that had seemingly come from thin air. He tilted his head the other way, almost challenging.  
  
Spencer walked over to the coat of arms on the wall, pulling a rapier from the crest. After measuring the weight a moment, he nodded to himself and pulled a small dagger out of its hiding spot in the tail feathers of the falcon supporting the crest. He then returned to the middle of the room, performed a flourish honed from years of fencing practice, and nodded.  
  
His attacker immediately sprung forward, practically a blur as he rushed Spencer. Spencer managed to use his rapier to ward them off, whilst his dagger kept them from moving too close for the rapier to be effective.  
  
The fox-masked man growled lowly.  
"You're not the empty-headed fool that some take you for."  
  
Spencer's eyes sparkled with controlled mirth.  
"Sorry to disappoint."  
  
They continued their fight, dancing around each other with neither gaining the upper hand. Steel clashed as they spun, each testing the other as much as they dared.  
  
Hiro was getting tired and frustrated. This _damn_ Gresley! Behind the mask, he bared his teeth and rushed Spencer in a risky attack.  
  
Spencer, breaking from previous tactics, stepped aside to let him pass at the last moment and brought his dagger down.  
  
The kitsune mask cracked.  
  
Spencer's assailant turned, face half-revealed by the cracks, dark eyes burning. He sped out of the room, turned into the corridor, and disappeared.  
  
Spencer followed after, but lost him once he was out of sight. He glanced down at the rapier and dagger in his hands, and nodded to himself.  
  
This assassin would be a worthy ally. That, or they would have to die.  
  
-  
  
Hiro's heart was pounding as he entered his safe house with forced calm and locked the door. Immediately after, he slumped onto a stool in the entryway.  
  
" _Kuso_. That could have gone better..."  
  
He looked down at the cracked mask in his hands, barely keeping together.  
Perhaps...  
  
He tucked the mask away in its box, and focused on tending to the superficial wounds inflicted during the fight.  
  
Maybe it was time to switch sides.  
  
-  
  
Spencer rarely dealt with the more unsavory elements of his family's network in person; it'd be far too dangerous and highly inconvenient for a man as much in the spotlight as he is.  
  
Tonight, though, he made an exception.  
  
His would-be assassin had sought out an advisor, and requested an audience. Weapons at the door, of course, but Spencer isn't dim enough to assume that 'Hiro' would be defenseless without them.  
  
He comes to Spencer wearing his cracked fox mask and tasteful silk, and lays something at his feet. Spencer recognizes it as one of his opponent's women, the ones on the side that none of his respectable and married adversaries would ever want exposing them. He nods, wordlessly, and she is carried away. The information she has will be most useful.  
  
He gestures, and gets up. His guards stiffen, but leave reluctantly and close the doors behind them. He's wearing his poker face, inscrutable and dangerous, and the last time he made that expression someone _died_.  
  
Spencer stalks forward with an easy grace, in a slow loop around Hiro. He examines the man as he circles, and is somewhat impressed when he doesn't so much as flinch.  
  
He moves face-to-face with Hiro, hand coming up to trace over the crack gently. Hiro's eyes widen ever so slightly, and Spencer's facade splits into a grin.  
  
"I don't think I caught your name?"  
  
Hiro, to his credit, does little more than stiffen. His voice doesn't waver for a moment.  
  
"Hiro."  
  
Spencer goes to take the mask off, and Hiro's hand comes up reflexively to grab Spencer's wrist.  
  
It's bold, Spencer has to admit. But the burning in Hiro's eyes gives him pause.  
  
It's not the angry, scorching flames from the ballroom; this is a softer, ever so slightly desperate fire. A plea to retain some of his own agency, in language subtler than words could ever explain.  
  
Spencer nods, slowly, and Hiro reaches up and removes the mask without the slightest tremble.  
  
He's got a nice face. It's very angular, not really androgynous but still attractive in a way that doesn't absolutely scream masculine. His face isn't thin, but bears the merest suggestion of high cheekbones. His mouth seems a moment away from a smirk, yet ever so close to a lip-curled sneer. His eyes are the kind of eyes with hidden depths, the type alternately intriguing and infuriating because Spencer does so _utterly_ hate not knowing enough and holding enough cards to feel safe.  
  
Those dark orbs are staring right back at him, and Spencer's grin eases from shark-like to more relaxed as his hands return to his sides.  
  
"You came bearing gifts. What do you want from me?"  
  
Hiro's brow furrows for a second, almost imperceptible, before a neutral expression is back on his face. A secondary mask, it seems.  
  
Well, Spencer thinks as Hiro opens his mouth to speak, he can do that too. He adopts a slightly bland smile, though his eyes betray his true intelligence.  
They always have-  
  
Hiro's talking.  
  
"A change of loyalties."  
  
Spencer tilts his head questioningly.  
  
"Not for me?"  
  
Hiro shakes his head, though the gesture is restrained. As if exuberant gestures and displays of emotion have been punished in his past. Spencer's seen the same look on beaten dogs. Something in him wants to see it gone, to have Hiro comfortable around him. He quashes it. Now is _not_ the time.  
  
"For me. I have no wish to be against you any longer."  
  
Spencer nods slowly, with a calculating look.  
  
"Much as I'd love to believe you... _Proof_ is always required."  
  
Hiro closes his eyes a moment, steadying himself with a breath, and Spencer is surprised that Hiro would allow himself to be so vulnerable in his presence. Then Hiro gives him a smoldering almost-smile, and Spencer barely manages to keep from licking his lips.  
  
"Anything, _Sir_."  
  
Spencer hands over a folder, and Hiro nearly drops it.  
  
"The Kawasakis are a thorn in my side. What say you, Hiro? What will _you_ do?"  
  
Hiro's entire body is tensed like a spring, folder clutched almost tightly enough to crease the paper. He meets Spencer's eyes with the slightest glint of madness in his gaze.  
  
"With your permission? I'd burn them to the ground, and salt the earth for afters."  
  
Spencer's grin turns positively wicked, and a similar smile spreads across Hiro's face.  
  
-  
  
Hiro comes back, late at night, positively drenched in blood. Chest heaving, eyes wild, and what _could_ be blood at the corners of his mouth. For Spencer, it's better if he doesn't ask.  
  
Hiro then hands over a seal stamp, the one that once belonged to the elusive head of the Kawasaki family and one that had been slammed into Hiro's own flesh more times than he could count.  
  
Not for any symbolic reason, but merely because it was close at hand. Hiro, still high on endorphins and adrenaline, had carefully stamped it a couple of times with Grandfather's blood before giggling uncontrollably.  
  
Spencer took it in hand, examining it closely, before dropping it carelessly into the fireplace.  
  
"And with that, the Kawasaki family _burns_."  
  
He turned back to Hiro, drawing the back of his right index finger along Hiro's jaw. Almost amusingly, Hiro's tongue makes an absent swipe of his lips that draws a shallow gasp out of him. Probably tasting blood... And there goes plausible deniability.  
  
"And you're mine, aren't you? My bloody little fox."  
  
Hiro's hands become fists at his sides for a moment, before he pulls Spencer in for a searing kiss that tastes of blood and ash and _victory_. Plausible deniablility and innocence have toddled off hand-in-hand somewhere, probably to a bar.  
  
There's still time in the night, after all.  
  
-  
  
Hiro, with Spencer's help, acquires a set of documents for a new identity and takes up a position as Spencer's paramour and hidden bodyguard. They're surprisingly truthful, but they change the kanji of Hiro's given name.  
  
From generous and tolerant, to prosperous.  
  
And, thankfully, he prospers. So does Spencer.  
  
They eventually retire to a private estate in the Caribbean, close enough to St Barth that the paparazzi still snap the occasional photo.  
  
 _ ~~Hiro wanted somewhere cooler, but Spencer compromised with an excellent air-conditioning system. He just likes the way Hiro looks in a silk robe and nothing else.~~_


End file.
